Innocent
by Aelia Douglass
Summary: F!Courier has a bit of a crush on Boone. Unfortunately, the feeling's not mutual and she's barely more than a kid in his eyes.
1. Chapter 1

Written for the FKM.

* * *

The girl was maybe fourteen when her family left Novac. They had appeared one day, "just passing through," and had stayed for some of the worst years of his life.

He remembered the girl though. All gangly and awkward, elbows and knees banging everything, the wild golden curls. Mostly though, he remembered her hazel eyes, filled with tears and her pale face spattered with gore from her would-be captors.

He didn't know how they had gotten into town that night, didn't know why they went for the girl instead of anyone else. Her screams had made his heart race, but his finger had been steady on the trigger as he'd killed the two who had come for her.

He'd left his post then. Why had he left his post?

But the girl lay in the dirt where she had been dropped, and he had to help her. He _had_to. She was just a child, and he was not a monster.

She was bound, but seemed unharmed. He breathed a sigh of relief and scooped her up. She wasn't much more than a child. Much like _his_child might be. The girl clung to his shirt and cried, her body shaking with each sob. He let her cry herself out, and when she was finally quiet, he rose and carried her back into town.

Her parents didn't even know she was gone. Stolen from right beneath their noses. But they were grateful. He remembered that, too. The raw relief on their faces. He would remember that sometimes.

Most of what he remembered though, was how much worse his night was going to get. How he would berate himself later for leaving his post. But he was blissfully unaware.

It was the night they took Carla.

He never did find out if the girl had truly been a target, or if she had merely been a distraction. On his worse nights, he blamed the child. On the better, he reminded himself that he had saved at least _one_innocent that night.

For a long time, there were more bad nights than good. Nights where he saw the girl's scared eyes, nights where he could almost feel her sobbing. Nights where it was Carla in his arms instead. Where he had saved his wife instead of some child he barely knew.

She tried to thank him. He remembered that, too. The next day, as he'd been tearing apart the room he'd shared with his wife, looking for any sign of her, the girl had appeared. Her eyes had been wide and afraid once more, but this time he had been the cause, not her savior. He had roared at her, and thrown something in her direction. He hardly remembered. He just knew that it was somehow her fault.

He didn't know what else happened. Large parts of that horrible day were missing.

He remembered her watching him as he took his gun and left town. Remembered the feeling of her eyes on his back. She was so young. So innocent. He had saved her, but at what cost?

Later when he returned to the camp with blood on his hands, the girl was still there. Clinging to one of those damnable dinosaur toys. She watched him silently, her the top of her head and her golden mane just visible around the corner of the hotel as he trudged back in.

Even then, as gone as he was, he found himself wondering how she'd known he would be back. Whether she'd spent every day waiting for him, or she'd just gotten lucky. He didn't ask, didn't even acknowledge that he'd seen her. He'd just gone back to his room and lost himself in the bitterness and booze.

He saw her around town. Always watching. She didn't approach him again. Didn't seem to ever be doing much. Just watching him as he trudged from his room to the dinosaur and back. Slowly the pain ebbed. He began to realize that what had happened had to be an inside job. Someone had _known_that he would be in the dinosaur. They had known it was his watch, and they had known that the girl would distract him from anything happening in the hotel behind him.

He knew Carla would have fought. His wife had always been so beautiful and full of fire. He knew she would have kicked and screamed and made them pay. Carla _knew_he would save her.

But he hadn't.

And it was all because some bastard had betrayed her. He didn't know who, and he didn't know why. But he knew someone had, and he _would_get to the bottom of it.

One night, in a towering rage, he cornered the girl. She was sitting at the dinosaur's feet. He'd known she would be there. He didn't know how he had known, but he had not thought to go anywhere else in his quest for her.

He remembered the confrontation vividly. He had grabbed her by the arm. She'd been so tiny that his fingers had wrapped right around her upper arm. She'd grimaced in pain, but hadn't made a sound, just stared at him with those hazel eyes. He'd shaken her, and accused her of every atrocity. Her. A child. And she'd just taken it. Tears had rolled down her cheeks, silent sobs had shaken her, but she hadn't said a word. And when he'd yelled himself hoarse, and fallen to his knees at her feet, she'd hugged him.

So pure. So innocent. He didn't deserve her forgiveness. But he'd had it. He was too far gone to recognize it at the time, but that was what had saved him. That act of forgiveness had led him to stop drinking. To clean up his act and think with a level head for the first time in nearly a year.

When the worst had passed, he wished he could apologize for scaring her. He regretted his behavior. But they were gone by then. Her family had left, and he'd been so lost that he hadn't even noticed.

He never even knew her name.


	2. Chapter 2

Andi had always known that Courier work meant that she might one day be sent back to Novac, but she had hoped that wouldn't come to pass. When her family had left the town behind, she'd had mixed feelings. On the one hand, she was worried about Mr. Boone, especially since Mrs. Boone was gone. On the other, he blamed her for it, and nothing she had done had changed that.

She'd hero-worshipped him, the man who kept their town safe night after night. He'd killed ghouls and geckos and Legion Slavers. He'd served in the war and saved lives. He'd done so many amazing things, she never got tired of hearing about any of them.

Some stories, Manny told her. Others she got as bits and pieces from the other "grown ups" in the town. She'd never heard the full stories from her hero himself; she was below his regard until suddenly she was an object of contempt.

But they had left all that behind when her parents had moved them to New Vegas, and she had never gone back.

But her delivery was to Novac, and so she went.

The plan was simple; enter during the day so he would be sleeping, bring the delivery to Gibson Scrapyard, and then head back to the Office before the sun set.

But her plan fell to pieces when she was set upon by raiders. She was outnumbered and outgunned, and ended up hiding for hours while they searched for her, calling out to her about the awful things they would do if they caught her. She knew they were cutthroat, but she'd never encountered any as determined as this group, and she was stuck where she was until the sun set.

As the night settled over the Mojave, Andi risked moving from her position. She didn't know what would happen if she stayed, and she was not willing to risk spending the night exposed in the desert. So Andi moved as quickly and quietly as she could through the desert toward that big dinosaur and the man sitting in it.

As she approached, she risked a glance at the dinosaur's mouth, wondering if she could see him. She knew he could see her. She wondered if he would recognize her. What he might think if he did. She waited for the shot, wondered if she would even know it was coming if he chose to drop her where she stood.

She doubted it.

But he didn't choose to, and she entered the town of Novac for the first time in two years. Not much had changed. It was still as run-down as it had been when she had left, though there were medical tents that she didn't remember, and the house her family had once stayed in was now boarded up.

She sighed. Spending the night here hadn't been her plan, and she hadn't really thought about where she might sleep. She wondered if the hotel-lady was still there, or if she'd headed home for the night. Or if she even had an empty room for Andi to use.

Andi's glance drifted back to the dinosaur. She wondered if Boone was up there, or if he had left. Wondered if it was safe to approach. She looked back at the hotel one more time before throwing caution to the wind and entering the dinosaur.

The gift shop was silent. She spared the room a glance, but didn't touch anything. She wasn't looking for goods, she was just looking for a place to pass the night. No, if she were honest with herself—and Andi tried to be—she was looking for Craig Boone. She hoped he hadn't left Novac. Hoped he was still working the night shift and that she wasn't about to surprise some other sniper.

She climbed the stairs slowly. She knew it was a mistake to approach him like this. Knew that her impulsive need to see the man who had saved her was a bad one. The man who had told her that he wished he had left her to die in the desert because then he might still have his wife. She knew it was a terrible idea, but still she went up the stairs, her fingers just brushing the rough wood of the ancient railing.

She remembered his words. Remembered the venomous way they'd dripped off his lips as he snarled at her. She had faced him down with dry eyes. The tears had come later that night, when she lay in her bed and sobbed into her pillow. Her hero loathed her. But even that hadn't been enough to break her.

With time, the pain had faded, and she wanted to face Boone, to remind herself that he was just a man. She wanted to see what had become of him, the broken man who'd lost everything in a single night. Her hero.

At the top of the stairs Andi hesitated for a moment, her hand on the knob. Was she sure she wanted to do this? But she had to. She had come this far, and there were just a few more steps between her and Boone.

She opened the door and found herself face-to-face with the muzzle of a pistol. The man who stared down the barrel at her was almost exactly like she remembered.

"What are you doing up here?" He growled, his brows knit low on his forehead. He wore his red beret, the one he always wore. And sunglasses. She remembered those glasses, too. When her family had first come here, he hadn't worn them all the time, but after she—afterward, she remembered him wearing them all the time.

"I was, uh," she hesitated, and his scowl deepened. She didn't remember him having all these lines on his face before. She wondered just how old he was, if it was from his age, or if it was just from the pain of losing his wife.

"I suggest you turn around, walk down those stairs, and get the hell out of my town."

"I-" she stuttered, nearly told him she was _from _Novac before she stalled. "I have a delivery. I'm a courier with Mojave Express."

"And am _I _the person you're delivering to?"

"N-no. It's for Old Lady Gibson."

"Do you think Old Lady Gibson is up here?" His tone was cold, his words clipped. She hadn't expected him to welcome her with open arms by any means, but she hadn't expected the anger she now faced. Andi wondered if he recognized her, if he remembered her just two short years ago, running from this very place in tears.

She wondered if he had ever known what he meant to her.

"No, but-"

"Get out." He growled, removing his gun from her face, but not putting it away. Andi hesitated, saw the way his brows twitched as he glared at her.

"I just needed a safe place to wait out the night," she said quietly before turning to leave. She took a step back, prepared to leave and figure out... some other plan when she heard his sigh.

"Fine. You can stay." He said, his shoulders sagging slightly. "But don't say a damn word, got it?"

Andi nodded, feeling her heart soar. He wasn't actually kicking her out. Maybe she _could _talk to him after all. But he was silent, nearly sullen as he turned his back to her and began staring out over the desert once more, as if she wasn't there.

So Andi decided to bide her time. She would let him get used to her presence before she pressed him. She sank to the ground with her back to the wall and her knees drawn up to her chin. She could wait it out before pressing him for conversation.

In minutes, she had drifted off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Andi's waking realization was that she was being nudged by a rather large, very dusty boot.

"Hey kid," Boone said, his toe bumping against her own much smaller foot. "Shift change."

She blinked up at him, wondering where the night had gone. It was uncomfortably bright, and she found herself squinting up at him. He was merely a dark silhouette, and then he was gone, down the stairs before she had even fully processed what was happening.

Andi sighed and rose, stretching and shaking the stiffness and sleep from her limbs.

The door opened once more, and out walked Manny Vargas. He hesitated when he saw her for only the briefest moment before nodding.

"He mentioned you were up here." Was all he said by way of greeting.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, told me not to shoot you." Andi wasn't sure if Vargas was teasing or being serious. He eyed her, his face stern. "Gotta say, you weren't what I was expecting when he said "some kid" was up here..."

Andi shrugged, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. She knew she was young—sixteen years was more than some got, but not really an adult in most people's eyes—but she hadn't expected to still be a "kid" and it stung a bit. She turned to leave.

"Hey kid?" Vargas asked before she was down the stairs. "What's your name?"

"Andromeda." She replied with another shrug. And then she was gone, and Manny didn't have time to ask more questions.

It was a short trip out to the Gibson Scrap Yard. She passed the package along to the old lady, got the necessary signatures on her paperwork, and prepared to head home. She wanted to linger, but knew it wasn't wise.

She needed the caps that work would bring, and lingering here wouldn't be good for her finances or emotions. Still, she fussed around. Bought a couple stimpacks, sold off some odds and ends she'd picked up that others could use, ate a hot meal, and prepared to head out as the sun set once more. She hadn't meant to dawdle.

Or maybe she had, she thought, as she glanced up at the Dinosaur's mouth. She imagined it was Boone up there, though she couldn't be sure. She pictured him scowling down at her through his scope. Perhaps it was the distance, or the frustration, or the fact that she was more certain than ever that her childhood idol was truly just a man.

Whatever it was, she hadn't been able to resist the urge to wink and blow him a kiss before striding off into the desert night.


	4. Chapter 4

It was only a few weeks until she had another delivery for Old Lady Gibson. All Andi could guess is that the lady had someone who was sending her junk. Or maybe things for her dogs. Who knew?

She entered Novac at noon. Boone would be asleep. She knew that, and yet she still couldn't help glancing up at the dinosaur's mouth. There was no sign of the sniper she knew was there, which is probably why they chose the location they had.

The delivery only took a few minutes, and soon she was on her way again. Once again she dawdled in town, waiting for the sun to set. She sold off some junk she'd picked up out in the Wasteland, bought a couple Stimpacks, and some clean water, and then went to work maintaining her gear.

Shortly after sunset, she caught sight of Boone heading up into the dinosaur. She waited a few more minutes, then followed.

"What are you doing here, kid?" Boone frowned, but didn't try to kick her out. She took it as a measure of success.

"Another delivery. And it's Andromeda." She informed him.

"Kid," he said again.

"Andi, if you must," she interrupted.

He sighed. "Andi, what are you doing here? I have work to do and can't be babysitting some kid."

"You don't have to." She insisted, plopping herself down on the floor beside his chair. She searched around in her backpack, pulled out a copy of the _Wasteland Survival Guide_that she'd picked up somewhere, and began reading. "Just pretend I'm not here."

Another weary sigh. He shook his head and tried to ignore her, she could see it in the way he avoided looking in her direction as he scanned the horizon. The stiffness in his shoulders. He was trying so hard to ignore her that she almost felt bad for bothering him. Almost.

"So," she said, a while later. "What kinda things do you shoot the most?"

"Kid-" he started.

"Andi."

"Andi," he said again, "You can't be distracting me all night."

"I'm just asking a question."

He stared at her, lips pursed, one eyebrow quirked.

"Fine." She tried not to sound petulant. But it hurt that he wouldn't even answer her question. She went back to her book. He went back to ignoring her.

At some point, she drifted off again.

She was woken by his toe nudging her foot again.

"Kid."

"Andi-" she grumbled, barely awake.

"Andi, shift change. Get up."

"K," she groaned. By the time she was on her feet, Boone was gone and Vargas was back.

"This is becoming a habit, eh?" Manny asked. "Get going kid, we both know you got places to be. I'll watch your back while you head out."

Andi nodded. She'd be back soon enough.


	5. Chapter 5

Sure enough, it was only another week or so before she had another delivery for Novac. This one was for Daisy Whitman, an older lady she only vaguely remembered.

She delivered the box, got the appropriate signatures, and killed time once again by selling off odds and ends and picking up some necessities. This time, she also got a warm meal. Enough for two.

As the sun set, and the shift changed, she approached the dinosaur. At the top of the stairs, she was greeted by Boone's unsmiling face.

"Kid-"

"Andi," she sighed. "And I brought dinner."

He gave her a look then. One that was somewhere between confusion and irritation.

"No talking." He informed her. She didn't agree, just handed him a plate with some InstaMash and grilled mantis, and sat in her place.

He glanced between her and the plate once or twice before sighing and eating.

She smiled a little, and let the night pass quietly.

It didn't take long for it to become her custom. She'd pick up any trips to Novac she could, and she'd eat dinner with Boone before heading out the next morning. This went on for the better part of a year before she finally managed to get some conversation out of him.

"Why do you work nights, and Manny work days?" She'd asked.

"Because I've got a better scope." He'd answered.

"Really?"

"Yes."

It was just a shade more interesting than small-talk, but she measured it as a success. Boone _talked_ to her and they had what could objectively be called a conversation. She was thrilled.

It was another six months before Boone initiated conversation with her.

"Why do you come here all the time, kid?"

"Andi," she'd informed him yet again. "And because I'm a courier. I deliver things to people here in Novac."

"Why is it always you?"

"Because I know the area better than most of the other couriers."

"Really? You're what, sixteen, and you know this place better than the others?"

"As a matter of fact, I'm _seventeen_, almost _eighteen_ and yes, I do."

He'd eyed her incredulously, but let it drop.

The next time she was in Novac, he brought it up again almost as if the conversation had never ended.

"So how do you know this area better than the other couriers?" He'd quirked an eyebrow once more, and stared at her until she squirmed.

"I'm from here, okay?"

"You're... what?"

"I lived here in Novac a few years ago. I don't know if you remember me, but uh. You saved me once."

Boone stood then, his face pale, his lips set in a thin line. She saw his fists clench, saw the old anger rising to the surface.

"_You_?!" He'd shouted. "_You_..." Words failed him.

Andi had stared. She had known he wouldn't like it, had meant to tell him in a better way... eventually. Or better yet, never tell him at all. But now it had come out, and he was angry about it.

He took a few deep breaths. Stepped back away from her. "Get out."

And she did. She grabbed her pack, and she left Novac that night without even glancing back.

Two weeks later, she took the wrong job.


	6. Chapter 6

She woke in an unfamiliar room. A strange man was watching her. He explained that he was a doctor and she'd been shot. Which was funny, because she didn't remember getting shot. She didn't really remember much, actually, but she had this feeling that she really should.

Her head hurt. The room spun a bit, and the edges to things were a bit fuzzy. But she moved carefully, and things weren't too terrible, she supposed. She didn't know what it was like for other people, maybe the world didn't spin for them. It hurt to think about it.

So she didn't.

Instead she listened to the nice doctor, and thanked him for his help. He told her that he wasn't sure what was going on, but that she'd had something with the name "Andromeda" written on it, so he supposed that was her name. Or a place. He really wasn't sure, and she couldn't remember.

But it felt right. So she decided to call herself Andromeda.

Or Andi. That felt right, too.

She spent some time in the town- Goodsprings they called it- and met some locals, but this didn't feel like home. So she left as soon as she felt prepared.

A few people asked for her help, and she gave it whenever she could, but she couldn't stay here. It wasn't home.

She wasn't sure she'd know home when she found it, but this place just felt so _wrong_ that she knew it couldn't possibly be. Or if it had been, it wasn't anymore.

She spent some months traveling the desert, meeting people, and hoping that something would jar her memory, but nothing did. She discovered town after town of lost souls, some more lost than she, some more certain of where they were going. But still she didn't find her home or her memory.

And then one day she stumbled into a town with a dinosaur. A town called "Novac" and though that didn't feel like home either, something felt sort of right.

The sun was setting, and she was walking past the hotel when a man shouted at her.

"Andi!" He yelled, and she wasn't sure if she heard anger or relief in his voice. She didn't know, but somehow she felt that she should. That it mattered to her.

He was a soldier in a red hat, and she wondered if she was supposed to know him. Wondered why her stomach gave a lurch at the sight of him. Maybe she had known him before, but she didn't know him now.

"You're alive!" He exclaimed in the way that a man unused to exclaiming might. His voice was rough, his smile wobbly, but he looked relieved. And then his brows drew down and he was glaring at her. "Kid, you gave me one helluva scare. I was sure you were dead."

"I uh-" She hesitated, didn't know what to say to the first person she'd met in months who knew who she had been before. She wondered how old she was- Doc had said somewhere between eighteen and twenty- and what she had been to him. "I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"Kid, that's not funny." He nearly snarled the words, and gripped her upper arms uncomfortably tight.

"I'm really, really sorry Mister, but I don't remember you." She pulled away from his grasp and rubbed where he'd touched her. He looked horrified, and put his arms behind his back.

"What?" He blinked, his mouth opened. Closed.

Andi shoved her hair back from her face, showed him the scar. The skin was still pink and ridged from the entry wound, and the surgery Doc had done fishing it back out. It'd rattled around inside her head, he said, but it didn't appear to have done permanent damage... except to her memory. And maybe some other things. But he wasn't sure.

He'd said only time would tell, that she might remember, or she might not.

And now here she was faced with someone who she felt like she should remember. Someone who had worried about her, or who had been angry at her. Or maybe both. And she didn't know anything about him.

For his part, the man paled. His lips tightened into a thin line, and he stared at her. He didn't move for a long moment. She wondered if he was staring at her, or deciding whether he believed her, or whether it was something else. She couldn't tell through the tinted, reflective glasses he wore on his face.

"Kid," he said sadly, shaking his head. "You got a hard lot in life."

She didn't know how to respond, but she felt tears welling up in her eyes. It was a problem she'd had; her emotions seemed to be vascillating wildly, and her reactions to everything had seemed much more extreme than she felt was warranted by any occasion.

"Oh Kid, don't cry." He said, gesturing helplessly. But it was too late, and the tears were falling in earnest. "Shit."

He hugged her then, and she found herself crying into a dingy, slightly musty shirt. Her nose plugged up with snot, and began running. She wondered if it was possible to cry gracefully. If so, she'd clearly missed out on that gene. He patted her back uncomfortably, in a pattern that nearly imitated back-rubbing, like he wasn't sure what to do.

And that made her laugh. At the absurdity of it. Of standing in the shadow of a giant dinosaur in an unfamiliar town getting hugged by the most awkward person she'd met in recent months. It started with a small giggle, but soon turned into a belly laugh.

Her face was undoubtedly blotchy, and her eyes were puffy from the tears she'd shed, but she laughed. For his part, the man looked vaguely affronted by her antics, releasing her and stepping away quickly. Which made her giggle harder.

"Kid?" He said when her laughter had finally begun to slow. "You wanna come with me? I've gotta get to my watch, and I don't think you should be wandering around on your own."

She nodded, and followed him into the dinosaur.


	7. Chapter 7

The Kid's back and he doesn't know what to say. What to do. How to deal with her now that she's as broken as he is.

Because there is no doubt that she's broken.

He remembers her as a vivacious if annoying girl, but here she is. Her hair is still that golden mane that he remembers, all wild curls. Her skin is still tanned from hours in the sun, still spotted with freckles. But her smile is gone, and her eyes are empty.

She frowns and gnaws on her lower lip. Her gaze isn't on him, isn't on some book. It's unfocused and nearly vacant as she stares at the portion of the desert she can see from her seat.

He's seen the scar. He recognizes it, unfortunately. She's been shot, close range, small caliber. Never seen that particular kind of scar on a head before, but the Kid's been lucky her whole life. He wonders what her luck might do for her in New Vegas instead of out here in the wastes.

She leans back against the wall, right where she's always sat before, but it's probably coincidence, and the fact that she's pretty much claimed the only spot to sit like that. She hugs her knees to her chest, with her pack by her feet.

He shifts a little in the chair, and she looks at him. Her lips part as though she is going to speak, and he hates to admit it, but it would almost be a relief. And then she catches herself. He wonders if she's quiet because she's confused, or if she's silent from some memory of him telling her to shut up. He doesn't know which would be better.

"Do you remember anything?" He finally asks to break the silence. He's still scanning the horizon; his job isn't any different because the kid's here. It hasn't changed because he's worried.

"No?" There's a question in her voice, and he wants to ask her to explain, but he can't. He's not good with people, with words. In a different life, he might have been, but he's gotten so used to his solitary life that he's lost track of proper conversation. Even Manny looks at him funny sometimes.

Boone sighs and shifts in his chair. He feels her look at him, and wonders what she sees. A grizzled old veteran pushing thirty with nothing but death in his past? That is, after all, what he faces in the mirror every time he dares to look at himself.

"What can you tell me..." she says, her voice small and wavering, "about me?"

"Kid, I don't know if I'm the one you want to ask." He chokes out. He's got this ridiculous urge to hug her again, regardless of how badly that went just this very evening.

"You're the only one who knows me." He hears the edge of tears in her voice again. He'd do anything to keep her from crying, so he begins to talk.

"Your name is Andromeda." She nods, and leans forward, intent on his words. "You're eighteen, or thereabouts. Your family came through here some six years back. Then they moved on. Nearly two years ago, you showed up here again doing courier work. Out of Primm, I guess, but I'm not sure."

"And?" She asks after he drifts into silence.

"I don't know anything else, Kid." He lies. He knows so much more about the way he treated her, about the horrible things he's done to her. But he doesn't want her to remember that. He doesn't want her to remember running from here in tears. Because as much as he doesn't want to admit it, she's the closest damn thing to a friend he's got.

He'd fucked things up with Manny. Or Manny fucked things up with him. He wasn't entirely sure whose side had more fuckups. But their friendship was less of a friendship these days than it ever had been, even when... Even when Carla was around. He remembers how much Manny hated Carla, and he's still got to wonder if his friend had anything to do with it. Manny knew better than anyone else where Boone would be that night.

"Oh." Her voice is small once more.

"Kid," He doesn't know how to frame this next question, now that an opportunity has presented itself to him. He's not sure he wants to do this, but he needs closure, and to be honest, he's pretty sure the kid needs a lot more supervision than she's been getting. He knows if he'd been keeping an eye on her, no bastard would've shot her. "Can you help me with something?"

She looks up at him, and for just a moment, he sees a flash of her in that face.

"I want you to find something out for me. I don't know if there's anything to find, but I need someone to try." He says. She nods, and he continues. "My wife was taken from our home by Legion slavers one night while I was on watch."

He leaves out huge parts of the story. Parts about her. About trying to save her and losing Carla. About his baby. He leaves it all out because he needs the kid's help, and he knows she won't help him if he tells her about what he's done. To her. To others.

"They knew when to come and what route to take," He doesn't hesitate before lying again. "and tehy only took Carla." That's the only lie he can stomach right now, with the Kid watching him, trust clear in her face. He doesn't know why she trusts him. She doesn't even remember him. Maybe that's why she does. "Someone set it up. I don't know who."

The Kid nodded again. "You're trying to track down your wife?"

Boone shook his head. Couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"My wife's dead. I want the son of a bitch who sold her."

"What do you want me to do?" The Kid didn't blink at his request. He wondered if she would have, if she remembered. Wondered if he was taking advantage of her, of her lost memory. He wondered if he should feel bad.

"Bring him out in front of the nest here while I'm on duty. I work nights. I'll give you my NCR beret to put on. It'll be our signal so I know you're standing with him." He paused. "And I'll take care of the rest. I need to do this myself."

"I'll do my best."

"Thanks, Kid."

She smiled at him vaguely, and left.

The next day, Jeannie May Crawford was dead.


	8. Chapter 8

Boone had named himself her guardian. Or something along those lines. She wasn't entirely sure how things had played out. But here she was some miles down the road from Novac with a grouchy sniper following her. On purpose. With her permission.

Andi wondered if her life had always been like this, or if it was a recent development. She wondered if there was anyone missing her – family, friends, a man—or if she had been as alone as Boone was. The idea of a man had her flushing and avoiding Boone's gaze. She felt like a silly little girl. Like the "Kid" Boone treated her as.

But she was an adult, and if the admiring looks she got from the men in the towns they passed through was anything to judge by, she was pretty good looking. She could tell just by looking down that she was curvy. She knew from Doc Mitchell's mirror that she was blonde, that she had freckles and brown eyes. She knew from what her hands felt that her hair was on the wild side, but she enjoyed it.

Boone had given her a beret, one that matched his own, and she'd twisted her hair up and tucked it under the red fabric. He'd looked at her then, and she'd blushed a bit. But the moment had passed and neither of them spoke of it again.

He was frustrated by her sometimes, she could tell. He didn't always like that she leapt to help anyone who asked. Didn't approve of situations she put herself in, thoughtlessly and deliberately. She wondered sometimes what she had been to him, before. Why he was so protective of her.

What wasn't he telling her?

She asked him question after question. Got answers sometimes, silence others. He'd worked for NCR's First Recon. He was a Sniper. He'd been in many of the NCR camps in his time with First Recon. That he hated the Legion, and everything they stood for. That he didn't always want her to know about his past.

She knew that he was the last thing she'd never see.

Without fail that thought gave her a shiver. She'd only entertained the thought that he had anything to do with her scar once. And she'd just as quickly dismissed it. If Boone had shot her, she wouldn't be alive.

They settled into a routine. Traveling the Mojave Wasteland, circling New Vegas. Chasing the man in the checkered jacket as much as she dared to. She was afraid, though she'd never admit it.

She didn't want to find him. But she needed to.

As she battled herself they continued to circle New Vegas.

It might have been endlessly except that eventually Boone stepped in.

"Kid, eventually we all have to face our past."


	9. Chapter 9

His stomach is twisting itself in knots as he watches her sashay up to the man who shot her. He is enthralled and disgusted as she leans close to the man—the man named Benny—and whispers something to him with red-painted lips.

He wants to take her away from here.

He watches as Benny's eyes get wide, as he says something in response to Andi, and then he is walking away, and she is following, still twitching her hips for the benefit of the guards. As she rounds the corner, she glances his way, and smiles in what he's sure she thinks is a reassuring manner.

Boone tries not to chase her.

She's explained her plan. Explained that the best way to get to Benny and kill him is to seduce her way in, because to these guys she's just a hot broad.

That doesn't make it easier to bear as she follows the sleazeball to his room. He can't stand the idea of Benny touching her. Of Benny caressing her soft skin, stroking her curves. It makes him sick to think of it.

Instead, he scopes out the place, looks for a good perch, spots their weak points. Pretends he can raze this place. Wishes it were a reality instead of a pathetic man's fantasy.

But Swank—the man at the front desk—doesn't seem like a bad guy. Just misguided, and unaware of Benny's extracurriculars. He was so horrified that he'd let her in armed. Swank is the only reason they're following through with this harebrained scheme.

Boone imagines throttling Benny himself. It's a satisfying thought.

A waitress hands him a glass of clear alcohol. Vodka, he supposes. He glances at her questioningly, and she gestures to Swank, who watches with a look of understanding.

Boone's stomach twists again.

He throws back the shot.

When Andi comes down from the penthouse, he's drunk. He stumbles as he tries to stand, and though he's not entirely sure how she manages it, she slings one of his arms over her slender shoulders and guides him out of the casino.


	10. Chapter 10

She had thought dealing with Benny would be simple. That it would be so easy to lure him upstairs, put a bullet between his eyes, collect what was hers, and leave. She had planned for a simple encounter. And really, the first part had been.

Everything else was the problem.

She didn't know why she had thought it would be easy. She hadn't thought much beyond the initial encounter and seduction. Hadn't considered what he would be expecting. What getting his guard down would take.

She felt dirty.

His hands had been on her, touching her. She'd been reluctant to stop him; she needed to get him to the relative privacy of his room, and she didn't think going cold would do that. But she hadn't expected him to be so very interested in a girl he'd shot in the head. But the bastard was. And now that she was here, he was whispering nonsense to her. About things he wanted to do to her once he got her upstairs. He said it all as his hands touched her in ways she didn't want.

She hadn't expected this.

As soon as the doors had closed behind them, she'd shoved him off her. He'd stared at her with a look of surprise and fear as she explained everything she knew to him. And then she had shot him. The same way he had shot her, maybe. But he hadn't been left to bleed out in a shallow grave. Instead she'd shot him again, to be sure she finished the job. And then again.

It was so messy.

She'd searched his pockets, recovered the chip, and then investigated the room. Something had seemed off. And it was. She found a Securitron. A helpful one, even. But she hadn't had the heart or the stomach to spend much time on it just then.

She needed Benny's blood off her.

When she had gotten downstairs and found Boone, waiting for her, she'd nearly cried in relief. But he'd been too drunk to help her. Instead, he'd needed _her_help to even stand. He'd murmured to her, said things that she didn't understand. It sounded like sorry a few times, but he spoke of other things. So many things in rapid succession that she couldn't follow it. He was pouring his heart out, exposing his very soul and he was too drunk for her to comprehend.

He called her "Carla."

She wished she knew who that was. Wished she understand why Boone was apologizing. Whether it was to her for past transgressions, or to this Carla. Or maybe both. He might have wept. She wasn't sure. She tried not to pay attention to his ramblings. It felt wrong somehow, to listen carefully. As if she were intruding on something private. Something she had no business knowing.

She was so dirty.

They got back to the Lucky 38, got back to the suite that Mr. House had given her. She'd dropped Boone in bed. He'd clung to her for a moment. And this time she had known by the way he looked at her that his words were for her. Just for _her_. Andi. The girl he'd known, and the woman he was beginning to know. He'd looked her in the eyes and said it.

"I'm sorry."

She'd left him then. Gone to get the blood off. But she couldn't wash away the feeling of it on her skin. It didn't matter that Benny's blood had been scrubbed off. Didn't matter that her clothing was discarded in a heap nearby, just waiting for disposal. Didn't matter that her skin was sore from scrubbing. That it was nearly raw.

She still didn't feel clean.

But she was tired, and she hurt. She still felt his blood on her. Knew it would stain her conscience, no matter how much he deserved what he'd gotten. Consciously trying to shut out her thoughts, Andi reached for the first clean clothing she could find, and staggered to the bed.

It was occupied.

She only hesitated for a moment before crawling onto the bed beside a snoring Boone. Only another moment before she curled up against his side, needing the comfort of a living human being, even an oblivious one. He was warm, and reeked of vodka and cigarette smoke, but she didn't care. He had a heart-beat, and he was not bloody.

She fell asleep.


	11. Chapter 11

Boone had wrapped himself around her at some point in the night.

Literally.

Her head was resting on one arm, the other hand had slid up under what she realized now was one of his shirts and was resting on her bare belly. One leg had slid between hers, and she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. It might have been endearing if she had been in that sort of relationship with him. But she wasn't. They weren't. And it was awkward.

She wondered briefly if she could extricate herself from this situation without him waking up. It was humiliating enough to think about last night without waking up in this sort of situation. One that Boone hadn't exactly been conscious to consent to.

She started by disentangling their legs. He'd shed his boots, she noticed now. She hadn't helped with that, so at some point he had done it on his own. She didn't think it had happened after she'd crawled in bed with him, or he wouldn't still be here. So she had to presume that he'd been sober enough to be concerned about his own comfort. So he probably hadn't drank enough to have blacked out.

Andi wasn't sure how she felt about the prospect of Boone remembering what had happened.

She also wasn't sure how she felt about remembering "blacking out" but not her own family. It was weird.

While she thought, she carefully set about getting his hand out from under her shirt. Or his shirt. Whoever's shirt she was wearing, his hands needed to get out of it.

He murmured something, and his hand slid up to cup one bare breast. A surge of sensation went straight to her groin, and she nearly gasped with surprise. He nuzzled closer to her backside, and she felt something hard and demanding poking her through his pants.

It had gone from awkward to _horribly uncomfortable _so fast that Andi didn't even know where to begin with her freakout.

So instead she put more effort into disengaging herself from his grip, gingerly removing his hand and dropping it upon his side. She was nearly out of the bed when she heard Boone's mumbling become more coherent.

"Kid?" He asked, his blue eyes unfocused as he squinted at her. She saw the moment that comprehension hit him, because suddenly he was wide awake and moving with lightning speed. Almost instantly, he was on his feet at the far side of the bed, staring at her accusingly. "What the hell happened last night?"

"I shot Benny." She informed him, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice. To keep the tears at bay. "He had the chip, and he had... this... _Securitron _in his room that I need to go back and get a good look at."

"That isn't what I was-" She cut him off.

"There was so much blood. I just..." She gestured feebly, unable to explain to him about the feeling of filth. The way her skin had crawled from the feeling of blood upon it. From the realization that she had killed a man.

He must have seen it in her face. Because he was there in a heartbeat. Hugging her. Holding her close.

"It's OK, Kid."

"No." She still fought the tears. "No, it's not. I _killed_him."

He didn't respond. Didn't argue with her. She almost wished he would. Instead he hugged her for long minutes, until she'd stopped shaking—she hadn't realized that she _was_shaking until it had stopped—and her breathing had steadied.

"Kid," Boone said, letting her go and stepping away. "It'll be OK."

She wondered if he was speaking from experience. If he'd been here, somehow. Or if he was just saying that to make her feel better.

And then she had to wonder. Did it even matter?

If she were honest with herself, she would say it didn't. She didn't actually care if his reassurances would prove true in the long run. She didn't actually care if he was lying just to calm her down. Fact was, what she needed were the words, meaningful or meaningless didn't really factor in.

She nodded.

"And Kid?" Andi looked at Boone, waited to hear what he would say. "Is that my shirt?"

"Uh," She looked down at herself, and didn't know how to answer. It was, in fact, his shirt. The shirt was short, even on her smaller frame, though it hung rather looser on her than it did on the older soldier. The fabric had maybe been white once, but now it was worn and dingy with age.

"Hm." He said, raising an eyebrow and staring at her in it until she squirmed under his steady gaze. His eyes didn't so much rake over her as take in the sight. She wondered how pissed off he was, and whether she should apologize. And then, abruptly, he turned and left the room.

She was so confused that she forgot about Benny. Forgot about the blood on her. For the moment, at least, all she could think about was Boone's reaction, and how angry he was about his shirt.


	12. Chapter 12

Boone's first awareness upon waking is that his head hurts. His second is that Andi is trying to extract herself from his arms. As if they've spent the night together.

He isn't as horrified by that thought as he expects to be.

He is hard and aching in the pants he has slept in. His boots are discarded on the floor. His shirt seems to still be on. And he finds himself asking.

"What the hell happened last night?"

He doesn't expect Andi's response. Doesn't expect the careful flatness of her voice, the way she deadpans at him as she explains what has happened. That is actually when he figures out just how badly last night went.

It's coming back to him. He remembers the vodka. The waitress. Andi coming down the hallway to him, spattered with blood. Now that he's sober—if hungover—he is aware of how badly he's fucked up as her partner. He should have been there for her. She shouldn't have had to deal with that.

He's still not clear on how they ended up in bed together though.

"That isn't what I was-" She cuts him off. He wants to demand answers, but she's lost. He can see it in her face. For all her talk about being some big strong courier, she's never had to look someone in the face as she killed them. Never known her victim's name before.

But she pulled the trigger. That much is clear. It's more than some recruits managed, he remembers that. Remembers the wash-outs who could take out all their frustration on targets, but couldn't pull the trigger when looking someone in the face. They died, or they went back home to California.

But Andi had followed through. And he's proud of her, and sad for her, and she's giving him this look.

And then he's hugging her, and he can't completely explain it. He just knows that she needs it, and that he's all she's got right now. He feels her shaking against him, and he can feel what she's not saying. The tears she's fighting. He sees it all in her, because he's seen it all before. He's _been there_. If not her exact circumstances, he at least understands the gist of it.

He lets her go eventually, because he's been hugging for a while and he's starting to feel really awkward. The only person he's ever touched for this long before is Carla. But Andi isn't Carla. He swears to himself that he won't fail Andi as he failed his beautiful wife.

"Kid, it'll be OK." He informs her. Because it will. Time will make everything better.

She seems to be thinking. And as she thinks he takes a moment to take her in.

She's wearing one of his shirts. It's a bit on the baggy side, but it's not really enough fabric to be what folks call "decent." It comes down to her hips, and sits snug on them. He can see her panties, and her thighs. He finds it hard to focus.

"And Kid? Is that my shirt?" He asks, though the words are hard to get out.

She hesitates. Looks down at herself. He realizes that she's not trying to seduce him. Not trying to inspire the sort of wicked thoughts he's having. _She's a fucking innocent. Just a damn kid._He informs himself. He's a dirty old lech for thinking of her this way.

"Hm." He manages. He's afraid to say more. Afraid he'll take them down a road that neither of them is prepared for.

So he leaves.

He's got some personal matters to take care of. Some stress to relieve. He doesn't know why he keeps thinking in euphemisms. He's rock hard and aching from the sight of her in his shirt, her hair all wild around her face. He wants her in the worst way.

But he can't have her.

Because she's eighteen and he's twenty-six. She's just a naive kid who hasn't figured him out and doesn't mean anything by it. And he's old enough to know better.

So he locks himself in the bathroom and tries to convince himself that it's better this way. Shamefully hiding in the bathroom and hoping she doesn't notice that he's jerking it. He doesn't think he can handle that conversation. Not now, not ever.

When he leaves the bathroom, he pretends nothing's happened. He doesn't avoid her, exactly. He just finds things to do in other rooms. At least until the worst of it has passed.

Because he is old enough to know better.


	13. Chapter 13

It wasn't that she had wanted to enter the Tops suite again. It _certainly_ wasn't that she'd wanted to do it alone. But the way Boone had looked at her had forced her hand.

She carefully stepped around the bloodstains on the carpet. Benny's body was gone. The rest of his suite was undisturbed.

Andi sorted through his belongings. The remains of a life she knew nothing about. Booze. Cigarettes. Old clothing. Odds and ends that may once have had a story. A story she would never know because she was a murderer.

She puked.

Most of it went into the toilet. Some of it spilled onto the floor. She cleaned it up as best she could. Left what she couldn't clean easily. It didn't matter. It's not like she would bother Benny with it.

That thought made the bile rise up in her throat, but there was nothing left to heave. She spit into the sink, and rinsed her mouth once more.

She had to get ahold of herself.

Andi imagined what Boone would do in this situation. How he'd get through this situation. He wouldn't be thinking about a dead man, that's for sure. So she tried to stop thinking about Benny. About his blood spattered on her skin. She met her own eyes in the remains of the vanity-mirror. Resisted the urge to do something rash, and instead looked away.

There was a Securitron to talk to.

When Andi finally left the Tops, she was conflicted.

Mister House wanted one thing. The NCR wanted another. Yes Man offered her power and freedom. But also responsibility.

She shot a glance toward the Lucky 38. Toward the Penthouse where she knew Boone waited. He would never hear her apology.

With that, Andi left New Vegas—and Boone- behind.


	14. Chapter 14

It took all of two hours for Andi to miss having Boone watching her back. She was ambushed not far from Freeside, and dragged into a Fiend encampment. She kicked and screamed and even landed a few good blows upon her captors, but they were too strung out to even register her struggle.

It wasn't long before she was dropped onto hard-packed dirt near a fire.

A dirty man holding a golf club took a hit of Jet before acknowledging her. She eyed him warily, looking for her best escape path, some way of getting the hell out of here, with or without her pack. She wasn't far from New Vegas. She could make it there if she ran fast enough and was very lucky.

If Boone had been there, he'd have warned her. Hell, if Boone had been there her mind might have been on her surroundings instead of overanalyzing last night, and she would have heard them coming on her own.

She swore to whatever might be listening that she would never let her mind wander like that again if she could just survive this.

The man stood, unfolding himself from his space in the dirt. He was filthy, covered head-to-toe in grime. He wore a Brahmin skull on his head, and his eyes betrayed his insanity. He leered at her, took a few steps forward, and nearly had his hands upon her when his head exploded.

Andi bit back a scream.

There was only one person who could do something like that. One person who was not supposed to be here, but apparently was. She was torn between being disgusted by the fact that she was once more coated in gore, and relieved that the man had not managed to put a single filthy finger upon her.

Around her was chaos as the Fiends realized that their leader had been shot. Some searched for the source of the bullet that had killed him. Others grabbed whatever drugs they could find and ran.

The next few moments were absolutely surreal as she stood calmly and pried the golf club from the man's dead hand. It felt as though the world were moving slowly as she took a swing at the head of the nearest Fiend and hit him so hard he dropped like a stone. She didn't bother checking if he was alive or dead. She just kept moving. Grabbing her bags. Hitting another Fiend. Finding the exit. Smashing the club into another Fiend's knee. She was clear in what felt like a heartbeat. Found herself standing in an open expanse of desert within moments.

The man who came running toward her was not Boone.

She felt her heart sink.

He was just some do-gooder with a sniper rifle who'd managed a lucky shot and was amazed at how she'd used the opportunity he'd given her.

But he had saved her, and he was just so impressed with her. He babbled at her, and she wondered if she'd ever been like him. Had she ever been so carefree? She didn't know. She couldn't remember her childhood, but she knew that ever since she'd been shot it felt like she'd been scrambling to catch up, to survive.

Andi thanked him. And then she told him to get lost. Except she'd been nicer than that. She'd wanted to snap, and wondered if that's what Boone felt all the time when he was gruff with her. Wondered if she'd ever bounced around him and told him he was awesome the same way this kid was telling her.

She glanced around the desert. Felt her eyes drift back to the Lucky 38, visible even from here. Felt the tug of adventure, and then a twinge of fear in the pit of her belly.

Sure, she could do this alone. She'd probably even survive if her luck held out. But she had enjoyed having someone she could trust at her back, so she didn't have to rely so much on luck.

With a sigh, she headed back to the New Vegas Strip, to pick up her partner.


	15. Chapter 15

He's been ignoring her so hard that he doesn't notice she's left until she's back. Or rather, until he steps into the foyer and finds a heap of discarded, bloody clothing. iHer/i clothing.

The unexpected blood causes a surge of adrenaline and a rush of panic as he hurries to find her. It doesn't occur to him to wonder if she's naked until he's standing in the bathroom staring at her as she submerges herself in the steaming water.

And just as abruptly as it was there, the panic is gone. She's fine. The blood isn't hers. He's seen enough unmarked skin that he can be sure of that.

But he's frozen in place. Gawking like a teenage boy when she turns and sees him.

He watches the cascade of emotions cross her face. Surprise, embarrassment, anger. He stammers something. He's not sure what, just that it's not the right thing to say, and then bolts.


	16. Chapter 16

In Andi's opinion, the best thing about the Lucky 38 was the hot water. She wasn't sure where it came from, but when she twisted the knobs, within a few moments steaming water poured out. When they were out on the road, she was lucky to have time to heat a small pot-full to give herself a quick rinse with, but here she could fill up the entire tub with _hot water_and enjoy it.

She'd shed her clothes as soon as she'd come in. Modesty hadn't mattered. She was caked in blood that wasn't her own, and she couldn't bear the way it felt on her skin. She'd needed to get it off her. So she'd left it in the corridor, and maybe Boone had seen, and maybe he hadn't but it didn't matter.

As she sat in the tub, she contemplated what, exactly, had just happened.

She slept with Boone. She left him behind. She nearly got herself killed. But why?

Once again, Andi doesn't have the answers. Doesn't know enough about her own life to put the pieces together. She hardly knows herself and it's terrifying.

The bottle of whiskey on the shelf near the tub tempted her. Her lips were dry. Her throat was parched. She just needed a drink. Just one drink to steady her nerves. The shot burned its way down her throat and sat heavy in her belly. Another followed.

She had just slid the bottle back onto the shelf and sat back down in the steaming water when she felt eyes on her back. Boone was there, gawking at her.

And then he was stammering something and rushing away. She was shocked, embarrassed, and angry. She was tired and weary, and even maybe a little drunk. She was sad and frustrated, she wanted to know about herself. She wanted to know about her taciturn companion.

Boone wasn't a bad looking man, and he seemed to be concerned about her well-being. More than she could remember anyone else ever being. That made him special in a weird way. But he was often distant, even as he followed and protected her. He rarely spoke to her, and when he did it was even more rarely to say something nice. But sometimes she caught him with his guard down and they had actual conversations and she learned that he could even be _funny_. Charming, he was not. But he was generally earnest and well-intentioned even when he was at maximum awkwardness.

She'd spent so much time thinking about him. Trying desperately to remember anything of their shared history. Because try as she might, she couldn't get him to open up or share anything with her.

By the time the water had gone cold and her skin had gotten all wrinkled, she still didn't have an intelligent opinion, or any ideas. But as the turmoil of emotions began to settle, Andi realized one thing.

She was angry.

He had _no right_ to steal her past from her. To hoard what he knew, refuse to share her own history with her. He knew it, he _knew her_and he wouldn't tell her.

As she toweled off, she got angrier.

He'd seen her naked.

He knew her past.

_She_didn't even know her past.

By the time Andi had clothed herself, she was absolutely _furious_. She was going to _kill__ him.  
_  
She stalked through the suite, on the prowl for her unsuspecting prey. Prey that had no idea that she was coming. Prey that would tell her what she wanted to know. Or else.

Boone was in the kitchen when she found him.

"Did you like what you saw, pervert?" She didn't mean to start with that, but the words were out of her mouth. And as she said them she realized she meant them.

"I- I didn't-" he was blushing, stammering. Not looking at her. He seemed to be staring at something above her, or behind her, or... his eyes shifted so fast she didn't know. Just that he wasn't looking at her. He was refusing to look at her, refusing to acknowledge her fury.

And she would _not _be ignored.

"_Why won't you tell me about me?!_" She screamed at him. She hadn't meant to scream. Or maybe she had. She just knew that the anger was bubbling up, filling her. She was so tired of being lost. Of not remembering. Of missing this huge part of herself that she knew he held the key to.

It didn't really matter that he'd seen her naked. That wasn't what it was about.

Boone finally met her eyes, and it was like she was standing at the center of a whirlwind. She was still angry, but the most important thing, more important than her anger, was that he was looking into her eyes. And he was talking.

"You were a little girl. Just a little girl, and you were taken..." The words rushed from his lips to her ears, filling a void inside her.

He told her what he knew of her childhood. What he knew had huge gaps. But he told her. The guilt put tears in his eyes. Boone the Rock. The man who never emoted anything. He was crying. For her? For him? She didn't know, and it didn't matter.

She had crossed the space between them at some point. She realized this when her hands were caressing his cheeks. Stroking away the tears. And still he spoke. Telling her of her return to Novac. Of the way she had hounded him and harassed him and _forced _her way into his life. And how he had missed her.

And when the words lapsed into silence, and he was staring up at her all raw emotion and honesty, she slapped him.


	17. Chapter 17

Andi was frozen with shock, her hand still hovering in the air. Boone blinked at her slowly, seeming to process her action only with effort. His brows knit, and his forehead crinkled as he frowned. His hands caught Andi's upper arms—too gently—and he moved her out of his way before standing and leaving the room rigidly.

His departure galvanized her.

"Boone?" She said, her voice small. "Boone, wait!"

She followed him, her eyes on his retreating back as he stalked to the second bedroom and slammed the door behind himself. She heard the click of a lock just as her hands reached the knob.

"Please let me in." She said, her forehead resting against the cool wood of the door. It was reassuringly solid. Sturdy in a way that she clearly wasn't right now.

She felt sick.

"Boone?" There wasn't a response. Not a single noise. She knew he was in there, so she spoke to the silence. "I'm sorry. It's been a rough time for me, and I didn't mean to do that.

"I don't know anything about myself," tears burned behind her eyes. She blinked rapidly, hoping to avoid the shame of crying. "I'm so alone, Boone. Somewhere in this great big desert, I might have family. Or I might not. I don't know, and I wouldn't recognize them if I knew them, so it doesn't matter anyway. I don't know anything about what I used to like, or not like. I don't know if I'm smart. If I was ever educated. If I had any skills. The skills I do have, I've discovered by accident when I try anyway.

"I've been covered in the blood of strangers. I've killed more men in the last few months than I care to count. I've nearly been killed more times than I know how to count. I've been attacked by humans, by monsters, by things that I can't classify.

"And through it all, Boone, you've been the only constant."

The tears were falling now. She couldn't stop them if she'd wanted to, and she wasn't sure she did. She needed to say these things. To explain herself to them both. Because in all the time they'd been traveling together, she hadn't put these things in words. She didn't know if it mattered, if it was a useless gesture.

If she'd finally made him angry enough that this was all over.

"I'm sorry." The words were barely more than a whisper.

The door opened too fast for her to catch herself. She slammed into Boone, found herself wrapped the second hug she could remember. She clung to him, the tears falling harder as she sobbed. He stroked her head, she felt his hands catch in her hair, felt it pull a bit, but she didn't care. She'd needed this hug more than she had ever known and now that it had started, the crying wouldn't stop.

"Andi," the fact that he used her name caught her attention. He _never_ called her by name. She looked up at him, undoubtedly red and blotchy, still sniffling from her tears. Their eyes caught, and held. "If you _ever_hit me again..." His eyes were hard as he continued. "I am walking out that door and I am never coming back."

She nodded. There was a pain in her chest at the prospect of him leaving. She didn't even know why she had hit him.

And then he kissed her.

Or maybe she kissed him. It didn't matter. What did matter was that their lips were pressing together, that she was melting against him and he was clinging to her. That she couldn't get enough of him. The feeling was mutual, near as she could tell, because his hands were sliding down her back, and then he was holding her ass and pressing her tight against him.

She pulled back, just a little, to breathe and to smile. He wasn't smiling. He was staring at her with an intensity she could never have imagined, and his cheeks were flushed. The look was of hunger and lust. She leaned forward, and pressed a small kiss against the corner of his mouth. He greedily turned and claimed her lips once more.

And then, as suddenly as the kiss had happened, he was moving her away again. Gently picking her up and setting her back. She watched as he took one large step back. She saw as his fists clenched and his jaw tightened before he spoke.

"We can't."

Those two words made her heart sink. She had thought he was enjoying it. There was a knot in her throat, and she couldn't speak. She stared at him, hoping that she was wrong, that he was going to kiss her once more and tell her that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

"You're too young, too innocent. You don't need a broken old man like me."

And then the door was closed in her face once more— gently this time— and she was alone.


	18. Chapter 18

Andi stood there for the length of a few heartbeats. Staring at the door. He wanted her, she knew it. But he was putting these barriers up.

_She didn't need a broken old man like him? _

Like _hell_ she didn't. She'd needed him to watch her back day after endless day out there in the Mojave. Needed him after she'd killed Benny. Needed him when she'd been attacked. She needed him _now_.

But he was being ridiculous and shutting her out. Literally. Andi was done with it. Her lips set in a thin line, Andi did the only thing she could think of.

She kicked the damn door down.

He sat there on the bed, staring at her, shock clear on his features. It was evident from his stance that he'd been sitting there unhappily. From the way his elbows rested on his knees, and his hands dangled limply, she guessed he'd been cradling his head in his hands. But it didn't matter.

What mattered was that she was here now, and she was not going to put up with him putting her off any longer.

"Dammit Boone," she exclaimed. "You want me _as much as I want you_ so why are you fighting it?"

He gaped for a moment longer before he seemed to find the words.

"You deserve better."

Andi laughed, the sound bitter rather than full of mirth.

"Better than what, Boone? Better than a man who has kept me alive all this time? Than a man who gave up everything to follow me? Better than the only damn person in this whole damn desert who knows anything about me? Better than the only person who cares?" She crossed the space between them as she spoke, until her feet rested between his on the dingy carpet. "Don't we both deserve to be happy?"

He made a small noise. She took it as a positive thing, and closed the gap between them. His cheek rested on her belly, his arms wrapped around her thighs. She stroked the top of his head, and pretended she wasn't aware that he was crying.

Boone generally showed about as much emotion as a molerat. Either he was angry, or he wasn't. So this was a new experience to Andi. She wondered if he'd been drinking. Whether that even mattered.

They stood that way for a few minutes, until his emotional outpouring had quieted. She caught his chin, tilted his face up to her.

"Craig," she said gently. "I want you and only you."

He tried to smile. She saw it in the wobbly and tentative way his lips curved. And it was so damn cute that she was kissing him again, and this time he was pulling her down onto the bed with him.


	19. Chapter 19

Her landing was by no means graceful. She flopped on the bed and ended up with a face full of mattress. But it didn't matter, because Boone was there, and his hands were touching her. And she could kiss him, and he would kiss her back. She recovered quickly, and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling them close. He was enjoying it as much as she was, kissing her with an enthusiasm she would never have guessed he was capable of.

In record time, Andi was shirtless, straddling Boone and kissing him while his hands skimmed over her bare torso. It wasn't long before her bra joined her shirt on the floor, and he was trailing kisses along her jaw. Down her neck. He nipped at her collarbone, and she gasped. And then his lips were on her nipple and she was trying to remember how to breathe.

He laughed at her reaction. She felt it in the rumble of his chest more than she heard it with her ears. And then he was nibbling along the underside of her breast. There were a lot of things Andi was uncertain about, but as he kissed her, she was certain that this was a new experience. She had forgotten a lot of things. But she would remember something like this.

She just knew it.

His lips left her, and she immediately mourned their absence.

But then his shirt was gone and she could touch his bare chest. He was beautiful. She ran her hands along his chest, feeling the hardened muscle and the bumps of old scars. She knew there was a story behind each one, and with time she would pry the stories from him. But for now the novelty of the situation was enough. Andi's fingers traced the stories as she committed the marks to memory.

Boone watched her, his eyes dark and intently focused on her. His lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile.

"You've seen it before, Andi," he said with a small chuckle.

"Not like this." She said as her fingers brushed along his tan line. He leaned back and relaxed as her hands roamed along his skin. She was grateful for the time to get used to being so close to someone else. It wasn't like she got a lot of human contact most of the time, and while Craig Boone was the person she spent the most time around, it was different seeing him this way. She liked being able to touch at her leisure.

His hands teased her hips, running along the waist of her pants, sliding just under the fabric. His fingers reached just far enough to remind her that there was more to come without being overly demanding.

She leaned forward to kiss him, her hands braced on the bed beside him. In her head, it was a graceful and seductive move. In reality, her hand slipped on the sheets and she ended up slamming her forehead into his cheek.

Her skin burned with mortification, and for a long moment there was silence. Until she started giggling. Boone laughed with her. If you had asked her before if she thought laughing while making out with someone would kill the moment, she would have said "yes."

Surprisingly though, when she looked once more at Boone, he had the same heat in his gaze. Ever so carefully, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek where her forehead had hit him. And then she kissed the corner of his mouth. When she kissed his lips a moment later, he cupped her cheek with his hand and held her there, hungrily claiming her mouth. Teasing her tongue with his own.

Her pants joined the heap of discarded clothing.

She wasn't entirely sure how he got them off her. One minute she was wearing pants and the next his hands were on her bare ass and he was kissing her neck. Not that she minded. His hands were large and warm and she loved the way they felt on her bare skin.

Andi was damp between her thighs, and there was something hard in his pants, pressing against her. She rubbed, ever so slightly, and he groaned. So she did it again. And suddenly she was on her back on the mattress and he was above her, frantically unfastening his pants with one hand.

He was between her thighs, looking down at her. His face was intense as he reached down with his free hand and began to touch her. Ever the marksman, he hit the most sensitive spot on her body on the first try, and she nearly shot up off the bed from the feeling of his touch. There. Right there. She hardly even touched herself there. But if she had known it would be like this...

The room filled with a chorus of whimpers and gasps. Noises Andi hadn't realized she was capable of making until now. As Boone's fingers circled that sensitive spot, only touching it lightly, and only occasionally, she felt her body begin to tighten.

When he pressed a finger into her, and she realized that he was _inside_ her, she was hit with the first orgasm she could remember. Her fingers dug into the sheets, and her thighs clamped down on his body, but they couldn't close, and it was the sweetest agony she could ever have imagined.

When it passed, and her breath began to steady, she opened her eyes and found Boone still watching her.

"That was beautiful, sweetheart." He licked his lips. "Are you ready for more?"


	20. Chapter 20

She nodded, and he leaned back a little, lining himself up with her entrance. He pressed forward in one sudden move, and all she could feel was pain. Oh holy hell the pain.

She gasped, and Boone froze. It hurt worse than even her worst cramps, and she couldn't bear it. Her thighs clenched on his hips. Tears leaked down her cheeks.

"Fuck." He whispered, his face pale. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Andi shrank away from him, certain she had done something wrong.

"Hold still, sweetheart. Just give me a minute." He withdrew carefully, and glanced down. Whatever he saw set his lips in a thin line. "Andi, you were a virgin?"

"I don't know." She answered, trying to get herself back under control. Breathing was hard, she couldn't get enough air, and there was this feeling of panic edging in on her. "It just hurts."

"Oh baby, come here." He pulled her close, and held her until she'd calmed. His hands ran along her back in a gentle, soothing motion. "I wish I'd known. There are ways to do that so it doesn't... hurt."

"But I didn't even know." She said, the lump of tears and panic in her throat choking her. The words came out louder, harsher than she'd intended.

"Shhh, it's alright." He scooted to the head of the bed, and sat with his back against the headboard, pulling her into his lap and wrapping her in his arms. She clung to him, feeling awkward and gangly. The pain was subsiding, and in its place she humiliation building. "_I'm_ the one who screwed up, not you."

He tilted her chin up, kissed her gently. She looked at him, he kissed her again, carefully. His hand stroked her cheek, down along her neck. His thumb teased the skin beneath her ear gently, the sensation somewhere between arousing and comforting. The movement was gentle, the transition from comfort to seduction so gradual that she didn't notice at first.

"Let me make it better." He whispered the words, "A girl should enjoy her first time, and it's not too late for me to make it better. But only if you want to."

He stilled, pulled back just a little, taking the pressure off her, trying to tell her with his body language that the decision was in her hands. Such a simple gesture, and yet, it made all the difference in the world.

"Yes," She looked up at him, and nodded.

When he kissed her again, he was less tender. He shifted them both again so she was straddling him. His lips were on her mouth, her neck, her shoulder. She hadn't realized a shoulder could be so erotic, but he was kissing it, and biting it, and it was so damn hot. He was gentle and passionate, a combination she would not have thought possible until this moment.

His hand took a meandering path along her belly, sliding slowly, stroking her gently. She shivered in anticipation, the pain fading from her mind as she remembered the pleasure that had preceded it. When he reached that tender spot again, she bucked forward, and he chuckled against her skin.

She felt his erection growing again, returning from its wilted state, but when she tried to touch it, he pulled her hand away.

"Not yet," he'd whispered, his mouth finding her nipple. He wrapped his lips around it and flicked it with his tongue. She groaned. One hand continued manipulating her clit, his free hand moved to pinch her other nipple. Between that and his tongue she was panting, feeling another orgasm building.

She felt his finger slide into her, slowly. She whimpered, and he froze.

"No, that's good." She said, realizing that he was still worried about hurting her. His fingers resumed their movement, and she was bucking her hips forward, the motion entirely instinctual. Carefully, he slid another finger into her, so she was stretched with two fingers. There was only the slightest twinge, not enough to remark on. He felt her tense, and slowed slightly to give her time to adjust.

"More," she gasped, arching against him and throwing her head back. He bit down on her nipple as he added a third finger, and this time there was no pain. She bucked against him as his thumb circled her clit and his fingers pumped into her. And then her orgasm did hit, and she was mewling and arching and he was moving in her until she couldn't bear it any more.

She was panting hard when he withdrew his hand from her.

He stroked himself with his hand, wet with her juices. She leaned back so she could watch. She wanted him in her, wanted it to work this time. He seemed to understand what she was thinking, because he shifted so he lay prone on the bed.

"Here," he said, "Lower yourself onto me at a pace that feels alright to you. Take your time."

She nodded, and lowered herself slowly onto him. Little by little he filled her. She stretched, and while there was a small twinge of discomfort, this time there was no pain. Her but met his hips, she couldn't go any further. She rose, and then lowered herself again. His eyes were on her, his lips set in a line. His hands rested on her hips, his fingers digging into the skin there as he struggled with himself to let her set the pace.

She lowered herself onto him again, then leaned forward.

"This is much better." She said. "Now fuck me."

The words felt deliciously vulgar, and she could see that he liked it. His lips twitched into a smile, and he shifted his legs so he had leverage to thrust into her. He moved slow at first, testing to be sure she's not going to hurt. She pressed back against him with enthusiasm, trying to encourage him, and get him to pick up the pace.

And then he was fucking her, his movements fast and hard. The friction from it was new, different from what she expected. It felt great, and she could tell he agreed because he had this look on his face that she can't begin to describe. His movements became erratic, and she felt him getting desperate, and then he was pulling out of her, and stroking himself desperately. His semen splashed on his stomach. She watched it, entranced.

His eyes are closed, his breathing is heavy. She slid off him, and reached for a towel, or a sock or something. She came up with a pillowcase, one she'd meant to send down the laundry chute for whatever maid service Mr House has set up. She wiped away the evidence gently, and then snuggled up against him.

He sighed, and pulled her close. His arm wrapped around her waist, her head rested upon his chest, where she could listen to his breathing and heartbeat slow as he relaxed.

She fell asleep, enjoying the comfort of his arms.

* * *

_I apologize for the delay, followers. My mom was in town and it's a little awkward to write smut with uh... a parental audience. There's not a ton left to this story, and I anticipate it being finished shortly._


	21. Chapter 21

When Andi woke, she demanded a repeat performance. Boone happily obliged. And when they were both sticky with sweat and other things, he scooped her up and dragged her to the bath.

It started calmly enough, the two of them sitting in the overlarge tub as the warm water poured in. The first splash was an accident. She hadn't intended to start anything, but she'd been adjusting her position, and she'd moved her hand in such a way that water had splashed up and a few droplets had landed on Craig's face.

He had scowled, and she had started stammering an apology when the laugh had escaped. Before she knew it, it had devolved into the two of them splashing water at each other. And then he was lunging at her, and claiming her lips in a hungry kiss. She melted against him, reveling in the feeling of him letting go like t his.

"Andi," he said finally, as he let her go. "I'm a greedy bastard, and I'm sorry."

"What?" She blinked, confusion clear on her features as she tried to understand what he meant.

"It's-" he hesitated, "You could have so much better than me. A younger man. One who wasn't broken, one who could take care of you the way I won't always be able to. But... I'm too selfish. I want you for myself, and I'm not sure I can let you go, now that I've..."

"Craig," she said, his first name escaping her almost like a caress. "Don't be stupid. _Nobody_ can take care of me the way you do. You are my partner, and I won't go out there without you.

"Besides," A teasing glint sparkled in her eyes. "You being aware of how amazing I am means that you'll never think you can do better and leave me."

"I would never leave you," he said with a ferociousness that made her shiver.

"Good," she said finally, hoping she'd kept the word light. "Now," Andi stood, and stepped out of the bath. "Let's get dressed and get going, there's a lot that we need to do."

She left, a little extra swing in her hips than was strictly necessary. She hoped he enjoyed.

-

Boone stood there for a few minutes after she left, his mind whirling. On the one hand, he _knew_ he wasn't good enough for her, that he could never be good enough. That she could do better. But he wasn't sure he was strong enough to walk away and give her a chance to be with anyone else.

He knows he should feel bad about it, but she was just so... _happy_. He'd never seen her like that before, nearly glowing, a genuine smile upon her lips. It was because of him. Because _he_ made her happy.

And Boone would follow her to hell and back if it would make her happy.

That cleared up in his head, he went to pack up.

After all, they had things to do.


End file.
